I Am The Swarm

“Look here,” Morgan pointed to a pattern on the stone tablet and said, “Early writing combined peculiar textual styles with some pictographic expressions. This pattern represents a burning fireball.”

He then pointed to another part of the tablet. “These small figures—look closely—there are subtle differences. They likely represent two different races. Over here, this glowing insect-like pattern appears to rule over these small figures. These record what seem to be natural disasters, processes of escape, and even conflicts between two races.”

Morgan enthusiastically expounded on his findings for a while before concluding, “The ancient legends are true—there really were ‘Gods’.”

Sarah pursed her lips skeptically. “Teacher, you just said these are legends. Everything you’ve described could easily be guessed by any child with a vivid imagination.”

Morgan patted the stone tablet. “But now we have evidence. Everything is clearly recorded here.”

“Maybe the ancients were just bored and carved their stories onto stone tablets for fun.”

“You!” Morgan’s whiskers bristled as he glared at her. “The ancients weren’t as idle as you think!”

“You’re not an ancient yourself, so how can you be sure they weren’t?”

For the sake of his health, Morgan decided not to argue further. Sarah, however, was far from finished. Since she was young, Morgan had been her tutor, practically raising her like a father. In his presence, she could be her true self—bantering, nitpicking, and showcasing her sharp tongue. Beyond this room, however, she transformed into the solemn and authoritative queen.

Unfortunately, Morgan knew her too well. Just as she started to enjoy their verbal sparring, he would always put an end to it, leaving her unsatisfied.

Glancing at Morgan, who pretended to be engrossed in his research, Sarah discreetly rolled her eyes and asked softly, “Teacher, do you truly believe in Gods?”

Morgan sighed, leaning back in his chair. Removing his monocle, he wiped it with his sleeve and replied, “I didn’t at first. But as I’ve learned more, I’ve begun to believe.”

Sarah’s curiosity was piqued. Morgan, a renowned scholar, had once been the epitome of rationality and scientific thought. In his prime, he had served as the head of the Royal Academy of Sciences and had scoffed at legends, dismissing them as baseless fabrications.

After retiring from active duties, Morgan had shifted his focus to studying myths and history, even enlisting Sarah’s help in accessing the royal archives. Since her ascension to the throne, Sarah’s visits to Morgan had grown infrequent, and their interactions were usually limited to their playful bickering.

To her surprise, the man who once staunchly believed in science was now entertaining the idea of divine beings.

After a pause, Morgan continued, “A few years ago, someone proposed a theory of biological evolution—a hypothesis about the origins of species. I found it intriguing and began researching it. But the deeper I delved, the more peculiar things I discovered.”

“According to the theory, all species evolve over long periods through natural selection.”

Sarah straightened in her seat, a sign to those familiar with her that the topic had captured her interest. “Oh? And what’s strange about that?”

“The oddity lies in us, the rat folk. We suddenly developed language and writing and, in just two or three hundred years, propelled our civilization to its current heights.”

Before Sarah could respond, Morgan pressed on. “Many species have existed for tens of thousands, even millions of years. Why, then, are we so special? How did we emerge as a dominant race so quickly?”

“Perhaps our history extends far beyond what we know,” Sarah suggested. “Maybe the great catastrophe from centuries ago wiped out our ancestors’ civilization, and what we’re building now is merely a reconstruction.”

Morgan nodded thoughtfully. “That’s a reasonable hypothesis. I’ve considered it myself. But through my studies of these tablets, I’ve found that the language and writing from that period were still in their infancy, lacking any structured system.”

“Doesn’t that support the idea of a previous civilization? The calamity might have destroyed it, leaving behind remnants for our ancestors to rediscover and build upon,” Sarah countered.

Morgan smiled approvingly. “You’re not wrong. But consider this: First, if we were truly rebuilding civilization, there should still be some records from the earlier era. Second, look at this skeleton. Observe its sharp teeth and massive claws—evidence of a large carnivorous creature.”

“This skeleton is surprisingly well-preserved, dating back only a few centuries. Calculations indicate that its owner lived around the time of the great catastrophe.”

“And what does that imply?” Sarah asked.

“A great deal. Without weapons, we rat folk couldn’t possibly have stood a chance against such creatures. If we coexisted with them, we would have been nothing more than their prey.”

“But we could have used weapons to defeat them,” Sarah argued.

“Such creatures required substantial amounts of food—eating at least ten rat folk per meal. Moreover, numerous similar creatures have been unearthed. If a civilization like ours had existed then, these predators wouldn’t have been allowed to thrive—they would have been eradicated. Even if kept for observation, their numbers wouldn’t have been so vast.”

Morgan’s voice interrupted her thoughts again. “There’s more. Historical records indicate that centuries ago, rat folk had extraordinarily high fertility rates, commonly birthing seven or eight offspring at a time, with some cases exceeding ten. They could reproduce every two to three months. Many wars were triggered by population explosions.”

“During the same era, the average lifespan of rat folk was barely over a decade. But suddenly, our fertility rates plummeted, and our lifespans increased dramatically. From an evolutionary standpoint, these changes are highly irregular.”

“What if evolution itself is wrong?”

“Perhaps. But other species adhere to evolutionary principles. It’s only us rat folk who seem anomalous. Then there’s the matter of our ancestors’ supposed nemesis—scarce in number and even more mysterious. We know almost nothing about them.” Morgan looked visibly fatigued.

“Maybe they never existed,” Sarah offered consolingly.

Morgan nodded, then shook his head. “I don’t know. There are too many contradictions in our history.”

The two fell silent for a long time before Morgan muttered to himself, “But if you introduce an omnipotent God into the narrative, everything begins to make sense.”

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